More Is Coming
by nigerutmea anima
Summary: Four one-shots following Bellatrix's mental deterioration inside Azkaban
1. More Is Coming

**This is the sequel one-shot to Darkness, but it can stand on its own.**

More Is Coming

I close my eyes again and escape the bars, float across the sea, across the distance that separates me from myself. Bobbing lazily in the ocean, harnessing the power of the Almighty ocean, protector and prison guard, for the One that is More, more than the ocean, more than the chains, the feeble bonds that keep me here, paper against the fury of the ocean to Him. One that will come for me.

The sound of metal on metal, jarring against the bars. Something More than a dementor? My eyes reluctantly open, unused to the foreign movement, and behind them, the Minister, standing on the other side with an expression of fearful disdain that answered my unspoken question. No. He is Less. A smirk dances across my cracked lips, my sunken eyes, flashing in perfect harmony to the Conductor's baton. The Conductor of this world, and the next. The Almighty. Fudge eyes me with pity, fear and suspicion still showing through his mask of certainty. The _Minister_. So ignorant, so _weak_. He would not look at me like that when he, too, knew what I knew. Pity was a detestable emotion. When Azkaban was broken open, when my Lord came for me, when He graced me with a wand and made me, too, More. More than the small little man standing in front of me, though he held a wand and I did not. Mudblood. My eyes carved the word across his unlucky face, the mask of filth. Fudge stepped back from the bars with a slight falter and made to move on to the rest of the cells.

I closed my eyes again with a smile.

I hoped he would scream when my Master came for me.


	2. Death

Death

I feel my body tense and I breathe in deeply. I smell the smell of Death. I hear the feeble whimpering and breathless panting of one of the other inmates. He will go soon. They all do. I have seen three others in that cell before him; they come and go like the rising tide. I recall a time that I, too, was afraid of the sure-footed Death, creeping ever closer. But then I realized, my Lord is the Master of Death. He will keep me safe from its icy clasp, free of its snare. I laugh wildly as the man fades.

Death is but my peer; we both live to serve the Dark Lord. Death bows down to my Lord. And I, His most faithful, will be exalted over all others.

Death can hurt me no more.


	3. Waiting

Waiting

I lovingly stroke my left arm, caressing the symbol of hope that lies thereon. Within the ink embellished on my unworthy flesh. I, the most pure of any pureblooded family, cannot hope to deserve the swirling black patterns, dancing across my flesh.

I wish in vain for the pain to come, for the Mark to light ablaze, rekindling my spirit and calling me back.

Back to life, back to death, back to Master.

I close my eyes, erasing the variations of grey that surround me, but I can still feel the dormant serpant, waiting.

Just like me.

Waiting.

My only friend.

My promise of hope.

My Mark.

Waiting.


	4. Darkness

**LAST**

**A/N So I've been cleaning up my profile and noticed that I posted these very short five one-shots separately, even though they really are grouped together. It's been driving me crazy, so I did a bit of reorganizing. I really hate that I deleted so many reviews doing this, though, so I'm very sorry if that means you! **

Darkness

The only thing I can see is darkness, but I am aware of another world around me. I can hear only tortured moans and the clanking of chains, and yet so much more. _His_ voice, the voice of an angel and a demon inside the same body, whispering in my ear, so tantalizingly near. Cold, emotionless, colder than the air whistling through the bars of my cage, but there. Here. _He_ is in my head, speaking to my inner self, whispering through the impenetrable darkness. A feverish smile spreads slowly across my face.

My face glows with a strange light in the darkness, the only light in my darkness, glowing with the light that is Him. My cell mate takes a startled step backwards, and I bare my teeth in a fierce smile. This filth, what right does he have to be so near my body, yet so far from my mind, my _spirit_?

They belong to Him, only. Everything is His. The dementors cannot take this from me, my rock, because it is not a happy thought. It just Is. Dementors have no more power over me. They have taken everything I have to offer and left me free. Free of those heavy memories, weighing me down, creating false bonds, chains I drag with me, illusions hidden inside of lies. There is only one Truth. There is only one Master.

I do not remember my family, only my blood-traitor of a sister and foolish cousin. They remain, ingrained in my memory, with every other horrible memory. The pain, the anguish, the hurt, all remain.

And my Lord remains, the Embodiment of my every hope; every happy lie, every false love rests now in the Truth. The Truth will set me free. The Truth will come for me.

My head stops spinning from hunger, my eyes open for the first time in weeks, straining, fighting against the darkness. Because they have already won. Because He has won. Because, through the darkness, a secret world lies just for me. For His most faithful.


End file.
